I Need You Now, More than Ever
by avenger.addict
Summary: post Reichenbach fall. John is depressed, lonely and misses his consulting detective. He keeps telling himself he isn't dead, but is starting to doubt himself.
1. Chapter 1

**Soooooo This is my first Johnlock, I hope that it turns out okay.. *fingers crossed* Pleeease read and review. Thanks!**

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**Chapter 1**

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John stood looking down at his friend's grave and felt tears burn his eyes. He took a slow deep breath and felt a shudder move through his chest. He didn't know why Sherlock fell, he didn't want or need to know why, he just wanted his friend back. He straightened up his back and before limping away, and he kept his eyes on the ground as he left the cemetery and haled down a cab to go back to 221 Baker Street.

He stared out the window of the cab as the rain came down, his stomach twisting and churning. It had been a week since the death of the infamous Sherlock Holmes, but John had still not recovered. He's not sure he'd ever recover. Sure Sherlock had done somethings that irritated or angered him, but he was the only friend John really had. Joh was the only one that Sherlock had.

He glanced down at his pocket as his mobile phone chirped. John sighed quietly and pulled it out of his pocket.

**Haven't heard from you in a while. How are you holding up? -GL**

John rolled his eyes and stuck his phone back in his pocket. John had receded back into himself, he didn't have tea with Mrs. Hudson any more, he didn't go out for a pint with Greg either. He hadn't left the flat at all really, come to think of it, he hardly left his bed.

Just recently John had been going through the local paper to find a new flat, he couldn't stay at 221B Baker Street any more. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't bare to stay in the flat that him and his friend shared, and have that constant reminder of what he had lost, what was taken from him. What Sherlock took from him. John clenched his hand around the handle of his cane tight enough to almost bruise his palm. He tightened his jaw and held back the tears that threatened to streak his face. Sure, he went to see his therapist for a while but found it never helped any. He would sit in front of his laptop sometimes and just stare at the screen, not even sure how or what to update his blog on, nothing happened to him any more. John was just back to square one after he had left Afghanistan.

John paid the cabbie and stood at the sidewalk, staring at the door to the flat. He heard his phone chirp again and he just rolled is eyes knowing it was Greg again. Didn't that man have something else better to do? Honestly! He let out a long sigh and limped his way back into the flat.

John stood in the middle of the sitting room and couldn't tear his eyes from Sherlock's arm chair. He pictured Sherlock curled up in a ball sitting in his chair, fingers steepled as he thought and went to his 'mind palace.' John sighed and felt a shudder move through his chest. He quickly shook his head, "No," he sighed as tears burned his eyes, "no." John limped his way through the sitting room and up to his bed room as he grabbed a duffle bag he had packed earlier. He didn't want to stay in the flat much longer, he needed out.

As he grabbed his bag he looked around the bedroom one more time and closing his eyes as a tear escaped his eye. He quickly wiped it away and cleared his throat, and straightened up slightly, leaving the flat and not looking back.

John got to the cab he had waved down and sat there for a moment. He wanted one last look at the 221B flat, but he felt that it would have ripped his heart out and stopped it to bits. John's phone chirped again for what he thought was the tenth time with in the past eight-teen minutes. He sighed pulling his phone from his pocket and looking at the message.

**Don't bottle this up John. If you need someone. I'm here. -GL**

John bit his lip as he stared at his phone and quickly text Greg back.

**Greg, please. I'm fine. No need to worry about me. Honestly. -JW**

It was with in seconds that he got a reply.

**Well, hey, friends worry about friends. You know my number if you honestly need me. -GL**

John slipped his phone back into his pocket. The cab pulled over in front of the new flat he was staying at and John paid him before grabbing his duffle bag and climbing out. He stood on the side walk staring at the brick building for a moment, his chest tight and his heart aching. He missed the consulting detective, he missed his friend, he missed Sherlock.

That night John laid in bed in his one bedroom flat and stared into the darkness. He had tossed and turned for an hour or more and laid on his stomach, wrapping his arms desperately around it, squeezing his eyes shut and started to cry. He gradually cried harder and huffed a little trying to catch his breath. He felt a shudder move through his body and murmured into his pillow with a gravely voice, "I hate being alone. Please. Sherlock. Don't be dead. I need you."

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**So please don't hate me. rate and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Here is chapter two. I tried to make it lengthy.**

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**Chapter 2**

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John laid in bed and stared at his ceiling, he hadn't slept last night. When he did sleep the two hours though, it wasn't restful. He consistently had nightmares, every night. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes sleepily. The images of last night's dream tormenting his mind.

His mind kept taking him back to that day as he stared up at Sherlock standing on the edge of Saint Bart's. John squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the images away. He sighed a little as he heard his phone chirp. He reached over to the nightstand and opened the message.

**I know you probably will ignore this message. Thought you might want to get some coffee this afternoon. Please. Text me. -GL**

John just sighed a little and stared at the screen for a minute. Greg has been a good friend for the past week or so. He's been checking up on John, making sure he was still okay, making sure he was still alive knowing how close to Sherlock he was. John reluctantly typed out a reply.

**Yeah sure. What time? -JW**

He closed his eyes and stayed that way for a few minutes. He hated Sherlock being gone. As much as that arrogant git irritated him, John still enjoyed his company. Sherlock was really the only person John had. Besides Greg, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson. He couldn't stand being alone any more. It was driving him inside. John constantly thought about Sherlock, thought about why in the hell he jumped, why did he have to be so selfish and leave John like that. He heard his phone chirp and he sighed a little, slowly opening his eyes to look at the message.

**Is around 2 okay? I can take break then. Meet me at Scotland Yard and we can go to a cafe. -GL**

John bit his lip and and typed out a response.

**Sounds good. I'll see you around 2 then. -JW**

John sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stared at his phone. He scrolled through his list of contacts and found Sherlock's number. He bit his lip tempted to call him. Just to hear his voice again, even if it's just his voice mail message. He hit the call button putting the phone to his ear and listened. As he listened to each ring, his heart broke more. John closed his eyes as the voice mail came on and a few tears run down his cheeks as he listened to Sherlock's voice. He sighed and shuddered a little refraining from sobbing. John quickly ended the call before the voice mail message could finish and tossed his phone on the bed, cradling his face in his hands. He cried quietly, alone in his flat. He quickly stopped though and rubbed at his eyes. He glanced at the clock that read twelve in the afternoon, and stood up to go take a shower.

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He hummed quietly as he stood under the hot spray of the shower, not in pleasure, and not in content. He was frustrated, tired and lonely. He just wanted to see Sherlock again. He just didn't want him dead. He wished he wasn't dead. John just wished that this was all a horrible nightmare and that he would wake up any minute. He wished that he would wake up and find himself back at 221 B and sitting across from Sherlock in his arm chair as they aimlessly banter at each other. John let out a shuddered breath, breathing in the steam and closed his eyes. He felt water, or tears, run down his face, before quickly stopping himself and carried on to wash himself.

John glanced at the clock on his phone as he pulled on his jacket. It was one thirty already, and he sent Greg a text.

**On my way over. See you in a bit. -JW**

He stuffed his phone in his pocket and headed to the sidewalk haling a cab and going to Scotland Yard.

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John entered the building of Scotland Yard and headed to Greg's office, and gently knocked on the door. John stood out side and heard Greg talking on the phone with someone. He leaned against the wall next to the door waiting patiently, fidgeting with the handle to his cane slightly. Ever since John went on that first case with Sherlock, his 'limp' went away and never had it since. Well, that was different now. Sherlock was gone, and his limp was back. Both John's therapist and Sherlock told him it was just a psychosomatic limp, but it was there. He sighed a little looking around the office watching people bustle about with paper work and talking on phones. He missed this. John missed the craziness he had on cases with Sherlock. He missed the excitement of not knowing what would happen, and the danger of the situation. Of course John knew that it was all just an adrenaline rush, but it felt right. John needed to feel that again.

John's thoughts were interrupted when the door to Greg's office opened up. He looked over seeing the detective inspector standing beside him. John gave Greg a fake smile as they shook hands and greeted each other.

"Hey, John. How've you been? Haven't seen you in a while," Greg asks, eying the military doctor with concern. John looked exhausted, beyond belief. Not only did the man look physically tired, but emotionally and mentally. This must have taken it's toll on him, big time.

John followed Greg out of the building and shrugs, "I've been alright. Living, I guess." It wasn't really an answer he should have given Greg, but he had to talk to someone. He needed to get all of this frustration off of his chest. He's been locked up in his flat all the time, alone and depressed. Maybe this is what John needed, someone to listen, someone to care.

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They sat across from each other at the cafe, and it had been all small talk for the past fifteen minutes, it has been awkward and uncomfortable for the both of them. John kept watching the sidewalk as people walked by, and Greg watched John. As Greg watched him, he realized something. He realized that John was waiting for him, he was searching for him. John was hoping to see that consulting detective's face somewhere in the crowd, hoping that he was wrong and that Sherlock was not in fact dead.

Greg bit his lip and watched John with concern, "John. You do realize, he's not coming back. He's gone John." Greg held in a breath not sure how John's reaction was going to be.

He sipped at his coffee a little as John turned in his seat and watched him a little, "Don't. Not now. Not here Greg. I don't want to talk about it," and that's what John did. As soon as someone saw him defenseless, and they came poking and prodding at him, he would put the walls up again, pretending that he was fine and nothing could ever go wrong.

Greg sipped at his coffee and started again and reached out, his finger tips gently touching the back of John's hand. "John, please. You need to stop. You can't just keep waiting for him. You're going to drive yourself crazy by doing this," Greg watched as John stared at their hands, obviously his mind was else where until the doctor's tired eyes met Greg's.

"Greg, he can't be. He, just, can't be dead," John shook his head and fought off the tears and slid his hand away from Greg's. He didn't want to be touched or seen like this. John felt that, if he kept telling himself that Sherlock wasn't dead, he really wouldn't be. John closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands as he tried to hide the tears from Greg.

Greg bit at his lip and watched John, he wasn't sure what to do. He just wanted to go over to him and wrap his arms around the military doctor and hold on to him. He wanted to take John's pain away. He wanted to see that bright smile of his back on is face. Greg set his coffee down and moved, kneeling beside John and wrapped his arms around him whispering, "It's okay John, I'm here," Greg gently rubbed John's back as he buried his face in Greg's neck as he cried.

John took a deep breath as he pressed against Greg's neck. It felt wrong, but right at the same time. John needed the comfort, he needed the companionship, John needed to held. He wrapped his arms around Greg and held on to him desperately as he cried.

John slowly calmed down a little and carefully pulled away to look at Greg. He stared Greg in the eyes for a moment, and gently pressed a kiss to his lips.

John pulled away quickly and looked at Greg with wide eyes, "Um. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." John blushed and shifted in his seat burying his face in his hands.

Greg blushed and moved his eyes over John's face, "Its, um, its okay. I didn't mind." Greg rubbed the back of his neck a little and looked down at the ground as it got awkwardly quiet. John glanced at Greg, and leaned forward kissing him gently.

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**Well there is chapter 2. I hope you enjoy it! Please Review! Thanks! I love you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

**wow. I am sooooo sorry for the wait on this guys. My sincerest apologies. I had a tough time getting over the hill on this one. It's a nice long chapter. Hoping that it'll give me your forgiveness on making you guys wait. *sigh* It's a long one. And I kind of changed my set up making it easier to read! Welp. I hope you enjoy. Please don't hate me.**

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**Chapter 3**

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It had been three days since John had kissed Greg at the café, and it still was a very strange notion. Why did that even happen? Why did it feel so wrong but so right at the same time? He felt so uncertain and it was driving him up the wall.

He paced the his flat a little with a limp. He couldn't help but keep thinking about that day with Greg at the café. He hasn't really talked to or seen him since.

John raked his fingers through his hair slightly frustrated and confused. John wanted the comfort, he wanted the companionship, he missed having someone with him.

He heard his phone chirp and he glanced down at it opening the message.

**Hey John. Haven't heard from you in a while. Everything okay? GL**

John bit at his lip and stared down at his phone.

He felt like texting back, No. Nothing is okay.

He sighed a little and typing a message, deleting it, then typing out another message. He had no idea what to say or how to say it.

John stood in the small sitting room of his flat and the silence was deafening. He felt tears starting to burn his eyes as the loneliness started to consume him. He felt a chill crawl up his spine and took in a sharp breath, feeling it shudder through his chest.

He squeezed his eyes closed and felt the tears run down his cheeks slowly, and finally typed out an honest message to Greg.

**No. I'm not okay. I need you. -JW**

John felt a sob build up in his chest and sat on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He hated being alone, before he met Sherlock, John came to terms with being alone. He was used to being alone.

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He wasn't sure how long he sat on floor, but the buzz from the door bell shook him from pits of his dark emotions. He went downstairs and opened the door seeing Greg standing at the door, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.

Greg moved his eyes over John's face. He saw the bags under John's eyes from lack of sleep, and the white's of his eyes a little red from what he thinks was crying. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around John and hold him tightly.

He just wanted the old John back, he missed John's cheeky smiles. Greg missed seeing John happy. He bit his lip a little looking at John, he wanted to make John happy.

Greg watched him a little concerned, "John? Are you okay?"

John closed his eyes for just a second, "I um. No. I'm not. I'm not okay. Uh. Please, come in."

He waved Greg in and led him to up to his flat. They got into his flat and John murmured quietly, "sorry, its um. Kind of small." The two stood in the middle of the sitting room, the kitchen area only a few feet away to their left, and bedroom and bathroom a few feet to their right.

Greg shook his head, "No, it's all right. No need to apologize John." He shifted awkwardly on his feet and looked at John concerned, " So um. You want to sit and talk?"

"Oh, um yeah. Of course," John led him into the small kitchen and offered him to sit at the small table, "coffee?"

"Yeah sure," Greg watched John a little as he started the coffee pot and sat across from Greg. They sat in an awkward silence for a little while until Greg broke it. "John, you told me that you needed me. What's up? Are you okay?"

John took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, "I... I just don't I know anymore," he sighed a little, "before I met Sherlock, I was alright with loneliness. Hell I preferred it. I didn't have any one to lean on, I didn't have anyone to care for me. So I relied on myself."

Greg glanced at John's hand on the table, and thought about reaching across the table and taking it in his. He tentatively started to reach his out from under the table but John stood up and went to pour two cups of coffee.

Greg sighed a little and ran a hand through his hair. John needed support, he needed the comfort and Greg wanted to be the one to give him that. He hated seeing John so unhappy.

He watched John bring over two mugs of coffee and hand him one. He nodded and gave a sad smile. He hated seeing John so upset, so broken-hearted.

"John. I know this is hard for you. Honestly I do, I know that you and Sherlock grew very close," Greg sighed a little and sipped at his coffee. He cleared his throat a little and glanced up at John. "I know that it's difficult to talk about, but John. You need to talk about this. You can't keep bottling this up," he glanced down at his hands then looked back up at John again, "I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing you so unhappy. I..I miss seeing you smile John."

John bit at as his lip and stared at Greg, not sure how he felt about what Greg just said to him.

"John, please. You need to talk about this. You need to get this off your chest. I hate seeing you hurt, I hate seeing you in so much pain," Greg told him sadly, and reached out gently brushing his finger tips along the back of John's hand.

John's closed his eyes slowly and frowned a little, he missed having the touch of another. Sure he had seen a couple of women when he was flatmates with Sherlock, but they didn't stick around very long at all. Sherlock somehow always found away to ward off the dates John had.

Greg pulled his hand away quickly and drank more of his coffee. "Greg, I just. Thank you, for being a concerned friend. Honestly, thank you. I appreciate you trying to help me. I just, I feel..." John tried explain and tried searching for the right words, and the right way to say it.

Sighing a little, Greg gave him a small smile and tried to help, "You feel lonely, empty, lost," John closed his eyes and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to run down is face.

"You feel like part of you has gone missing," Greg concluded and gently caressed the back of John's hand with his finger tips.

All John could do at the moment was nod. Greg was right, it did feel like part of him was missing. He did feel lonely, and empty. As much of an annoying little bastard Sherlock could be, John missed the arguments the two of them had. God Sherlock could really drive John up the wall, but he missed that mad man.

John finally opened his eyes and met with Greg's blue eyes. He murmured quietly as tears ran down his cheeks, "You're right. You are so very right, and it hurts, so much."

John took a deep breath, "it... It hurts to know that the one person you spent that much time with and grew attached to that much, is not coming back. That empty feeling is all I have now. I hate going to the surgery to work now, I haven't seen Mrs. Hudson in God knows how long. And I just started seeing you again last week."

Greg frowned watching John come undone in front of him. He kept moving his finger tips along the back of John's hand. Greg was trying to calm him down or try to reassure him that, yes he was here for him and everything would be alright.

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After two cups of coffee and four beers each later. John and Greg was sitting at the table and John kept venting, and crying. Over time, Greg's chair had moved closer to John and had a hand resting on John's.

He hadn't noticed Greg's hand there, but he noticed that Greg was moving closer. Greg just wanted to comfort him. He just wanted to wrap his arms around John and make him feel better. He wanted to fill that emptiness for John. Greg wanted to get rid of the loneliness for the poor ex army doctor.

Greg's eyes moved over John's sad face as he listened to John ramble on about, Sherlock this and Sherlock that. He bit his lip a little and started to mentally hate the fact that Sherlock did this to him. He wasn't even sure if Sherlock noticed how enamored John had become with him.

He hated the fact that John had become enamored with that man, and that said man went and took that away from him. In Greg's mind it was a horrible and selfish thing to do.

Greg wasn't sure if the overwhelming need to comfort the poor man was that started falling for the guy, or it was the alcohol, either way, he gave in.

John was in tears and Greg hated seeing him like that. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms tightly around the army doctor, holding him for dear life. He felt John tense slightly under his arms, for a moment before he relaxed and wrapped his arms around Greg in return.

He buried his face in Greg's neck tears still streaming down his face, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes trying to will them to stop. He couldn't help but smile when he felt the Detective Inspector had nuzzled his hair a little. He felt a shudder move through his chest as Greg's hand gently rubbed his back.

"It was completely and utterly selfish of him to do that to you John. There is no way that he didn't know how attached to him you were. This is not your fault, it's his loss. Not yours," Greg moved his hand over John's back talking softly against his hair trying to comfort him in any way possible.

John scrunched his face remembering seeing Sherlock on the roof of Bart's and that phone call. He shiver a little and felt Greg's arms tighten around him. The feeling of Greg's arms around him felt right, but all wrong at the same time.

He pressed closer to Greg and slowly stopped cry, taking a deep breath. John enjoyed the presence of another he enjoyed Greg's touch. Pulling away slightly he looked up at Greg murmuring, "Thank you. For this. Really, I'm more than grateful for this."

Greg gently cupped John's face smiled a little and gently brushed the tears from John's eyes, "You're welcome, anything for a friend." Greg kept staring at John and murmured quietly, "I should probably call a cab."

John bit his lip a little, "would...would you stay. I really don't want to be alone. I haven't been sleeping well at all." Greg, gently caressed John's cheek with his thumb and gave a small smile, "Sure. I'll stay."  
"Thank you, Greg. Honestly," John whispered a little and decided to take a chance. He leaned forward a little and kissed Greg gently.

Greg had been taken by surprise, but returned the kiss and gently and carefully. He gently cupped John's face and John hummed softly. Greg kissed him a little harder and John gently licked along his lip, running his hands through Greg's hair.

One thing led to another, and the two were in a heated kiss, stumbling to John's bedroom. They were tugging at each others clothes, pulling them off and leaving them strewn across the flat.

Greg gently pushed John on to the bed and knelt in between his knees staring up at him through lust filled eyes. John panted staring down at him and groaned feeling Greg lick at the inside of his thigh, he clutched at the bed covers and closed his eyes.

Licking up the inside of his thigh, gently across the tip of John's erection, he was then rewarded with another moan. Greg usually didn't do this sort of thing, it kind of just happened. He licked along the underside of the doctor's cock before reaching the tip and gently sucking and slowly sliding down his length.

Another louder groan escaped John's lips as he raked a hand through Greg's short, pepper colored hair, and gripped it tightly. He tugged Greg's hair experimentally and received a groan from between his thighs. John glanced down watching Greg slowly bob his head along his length, and moaned as he worked his tongue around him.

Taking in as much as he could, Greg pushed passed his gag reflex and took in the rest of John's erection and swallowed around him. He hummed a little and almost gagged as he felt John lift his hips. Hollowing his cheeks and sucking more, he heard John moan more and mentally smirked.

Greg smirked knowing he could reduce John to this, a quivering moaning mess of sweating flesh. He enjoyed knowing that he could make someone feel this good. They were both lonely men. John lost Sherlock, and Greg had just finished going through a divorce with his wife. Greg was glad that he had someone, he was glad that he could make someone feel this good.

The room was being filled pants, moans, and slurps as Greg sat between John's thighs, sucking the good doctor off.

John tightened his grip in Greg's hair and panted out, "I..I'm not gonna last." Greg just hummed as he bobbed his head and worked his tongue. Greg reached down and started stroking himself, moaning around John's cock.

A few more sucks and John jerked his hips, moaning incoherently, tugging at Greg's hair. The Detective Inspector swallowed as John came in his mouth and reached his release as he stroked himself.

Greg shakily took his hand from himself, and panted as he licked John clean and stared up at him.

John reached down gently caressing the side of Greg's face and laid back on his bed tugging Greg up with him. Greg laid beside him, both men panting, eyes closed and just listened to each others breathing.

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The light from the late morning sun poured in through the window of John's flat and woke him. He rolled over and felt a warm body laying next to him. He kept his eyes closed, not daring to look who it was. Then it hit him and he thought, _oh god. No._ _That really happened._ Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the back of Greg's head.

John let out a small huff and not believing that last night actually happened. Sure he enjoyed it, what man wouldn't enjoy a blow job, but he felt like he cheated. Something just didn't sit right with him.

He pulled back the blanket slowly and got out of bed and tried sneaking out when he heard a mumbled voice, "Leaving me huh?"

John froze in the bedroom doorway, "I..I was just getting in the shower. I was going to go down to that café on the corner and pick up some breakfast too. Go back to sleep. I'll be back." He glanced over his shoulder and saw Greg nod a little and go back to sleep. John watched him a bit before grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom.

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After his shower John slipped on his coat and check his fridge to make sure he didn't need anything while he was out. He locked his door as he left the flat and headed out on the sidewalk.

He stared down at his feet and bumped into someone and murmured, "Hey, sorry sir." He just looked up real quick then away, but he stopped in his tracks and looked again.

John was paralyzed and couldn't move from shock. He just stood and stared at the figure standing in front of the building of his flat.

"Hello John," the tall, thin figure murmured quietly. John bit his lip as tears burned his eyes, "No, this can't be...you're supposed to be dead." He pointed a finger at Sherlock in disbelief. John couldn't decide whether he wanted to punch or hug the man and never let go.

John decided on both. He strode over to the younger man and swung a fist at him out of frustration, hitting him in the jaw and sent him back a few steps. Soon after though, he grabbed the man's jacket and pulled him tight against him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's shoulders. John murmured quietly as tears burned his eyes, "I hate you, so much right now." He held on to Sherlock with all that he had. Sherlock's arms hung by his sides, unsure how to handle the situation. All that Sherlock could utter was a, "I'm sorry," in reply.

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**HUZZAH HE'S BACK! Aw gawd. I'm so glad to be over this mountain! **

**But anywho.. can't wait to see happens with our Baker Street Boys! :D Welp hope you enjoyed it and stick around for more. I'll try not to keep you guys waiting for the next chapter. **

**Thanks for reading... would love a review! *hugs and kisses to all***


	4. Chapter 4

**So here is the next chapter finally! I hope you enjoy it!**

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**Chapter 4**

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After a moment, John realized he was still desperately hanging on to Sherlock, and quickly pulled away. He glanced down at the sidewalk and murmured a quiet apology knowing how Sherlock felt about being touched and all.

There was an awkward silence before John broke it, "I um, I was heading down to the corner store. Care to join me?" Sherlock nodded a little and murmured, "Why not."

He sighed a little and as he walked with John he spoke quietly to avoid attention, "Can we go back to your flat when we're done? We need to talk John."

John glanced over at the taller man and nodded as they walked, "What about exactly?" He stuffed his hands in his coat jacket and stared at his feet as they walked, glancing up periodically.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said with a low voice, "You know exactly what we need to talk about John." He glanced down at the doctor and watched him a little. John looked tired, very tired. Not just physically either, mentally, emotionally. Sherlock bit at his lip and looked away from John. He didn't think that what he had done, would have hurt John this much.

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After the trip to corner store John and Sherlock came back to the flat, and it wasn't until he was at the door that John realized, Greg was still there. He was internally cursing himself as he stood at the door, gripping at the doorknob.

"John? Are you going to let us in?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side curiously, watching the shorter man.

"Uh yeah. Sorry." John twisted the doorknob pushing it open. He let Sherlock go in first and followed behind him, bags in hand. He glanced around the small sitting room and looked into the kitchen and thought, _Alright, where is he. Where is Greg?_

John felt Sherlock's eyes on him. He was reading him, he was knew something was going on, and Sherlock was trying to figure it out. John walked into the kitchen setting the bags on the table and taking his jacket off. He glanced over at Sherlock as he eyed the small flat, taking his scarf off along with his coat. "Uhm please, make yourself at home."

John started emptying the bags and stuck a carton of milk in the fridge. He pulled some pastries from the bag, and glanced at Sherlock, "Want some coffee or tea?"

Sherlock sat at the small table, "Tea's fine, thank you." John just nodded and started to heat up a kettle of water and stared down at the counter top thinking, _why...why did he have to show up now. It's one thing if he had a woman in his apartment, but no. He had another man. And not just another man, Greg._

John let his shoulders slump as he heard footsteps walking through the flat, "Hey, John. Didn't realize you were ba..." Greg stopped mid sentence and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the tall, brunette sitting at the kitchen table.

Closing his eyes, John sighed, and turned around and saw Greg gawking at Sherlock and Sherlock staring back. John watched two stare at each other for a moment and the awkward silence.

"You," Greg pointed at Sherlock, "you're supposed to be dead. Wha-." John stayed silent and watched the two and just realized, Greg wasn't wearing a shirt, which made things way more uncomfortable.

John cleared his throat a little and they both looked over at him. "Um, Greg." John tugged on his own shirt, hoping to hint towards Greg to put a shirt on. Sherlock looked at Greg out of the corner of his eyes, but didn't make eye contact. Greg blushed a little and went back to John's room where he left his shirt.

John blushed and buried his face in the palms of his hands and flinched a little as the kettle whistled. He turned around and turned off the burner and took the kettle off. He could feel Sherlock's eyes burning into the back of his head.

"So, you and Greg huh?" Sherlock asked casually, he frowned a little knowing John wasn't looking and felt his chest tighten. He bit his lip a little and thought he felt, jealous, at the thought of John and Greg together. John was his flatmate, John was his friend, but he couldn't help but feel like he brought this upon himself.

John set down a cup of tea in front of Sherlock and sat across from him and had his own cup. "Oh, God no. It's nothing like that Sherlock." John started to panic and defend himself. He wasn't even sure what last night was.

"He normally walks around your flat topless and has breakfast with you then? You can't honestly think that I don't know that something happened between you two last night. You can almost cut the tension with a knife." Sherlock stared at John across the table and deduced what he saw.

John sighed slight frustrated, "No he doesn't and there is nothing going on between us Sherlock. I was having...trouble, yesterday, and I asked him to stop by." He hadn't heard Greg come back in, and he was standing behind Sherlock.

"Nothing going on between us huh? Then what was that last night?" Greg crossed his arms over his chest and stared down John. Sherlock almost glared at John across the table waiting for a response.

"Greg, I just, I mean, yes something happened, but, it just," John ran his fingers through his hair and squeezed his eyes closed, "fuck. Greg, yes it was something but honestly.."

Greg didn't let him finish, he took a few steps closer to John and pointed at John as Sherlock stared, "You text me yesterday and told me that you needed me. I come here, I comfort you because this, moron," Greg points at Sherlock, "was a selfish bastard and left you alone! So I come here and comfort you the best I can. I don't even think he realizes how attached to you him you had become. I don't even think it registers, how hurt he made you feel by leaving you here like this and faking his death John!"

Greg moved closer and was starting to yell. John bit at his lip and looked over at Sherlock who had begun to look furious. "He has no fucking clue how hurt he made you and now he just turns up on your steps, and you bring him in and accept him, like nothing happened." Greg turned and pointed at Sherlock, "You, you have no idea what you did to him! He doesn't work any more, he doesn't see anyone, God knows how often he sleeps. Hell if he does sleep, it's not well, he's told me about the nightmares and the depression! You, have, no, fucking clue!"

Sherlock stood and stared Greg in the eyes and tensed, speaking in a low and threatening voice, "Yes. I do know what I've done to him. Do not for one minute tell me what I do or do not know! I came back, for John, I did what I did, for John!" Sherlock stepped closer, their chests almost touching, and continued, "I was protecting my one friend, I did what I had to do! He may not know it, but I care for him, like I never jave for someone else! So do not be so ignorant and say, I don't know what I've done or that I don't care!"

The two of them stared each other down, if looks could kill, they'd both be dead in the middle of John's kitchen. "Further more, you should not be so bold and assume you know how one feels about another! You weren't there the day I jumped, you weren't there when I talked to John over the phone," Sherlock's voice got louder and started talking through gritted teeth, "and you were certainly not there as I watched and heard him as I broke his heart over the phone! If I didn't have to do that for him, to protect him, I wouldn't have. If I didn't have to do that, you wouldn't be in this bloody flat getting off with my friend!"

John's face reddened and buried his face in his palms. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, and he didn't know how to handle what was going on. He felt tears burn his eyes as he kept he face in his hands. He just wanted this to stop he just wanted everything back the way it was before Sherlock jumped. Back at 221 B Baker Street, solving crimes and writing a blog about them.

God, he hasn't touched that blog in months, hell after that one visit to his therapist, he stopped going after. He didn't see the point, it wasn't helping with his depression after Sherlock jumped, it didn't help with his 'ptsd' either. It was suppose to help him adjust back to civilian life, but it wasn't helping.

John kept his face buried in his palms and kept listening to the voices in his kitchen.

After the last comment that Sherlock made, Greg was beyond upset. He clenched his hands tight into fists and stared back at Sherlock. He was fighting off the urge to punch the guy in the face. "If you were alive then why not come back for John sooner huh?! Why the fuck did you wait so long?! The poor guy has moped around his flat for months, because you decided you had more important things to attend to!"

Greg took a step to the side and stuck a hand out in John's direction, "Fucking look at him! He's exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally! I sat here in his fucking kitchen for an hour, holding him because he was crying! He was fucking bawling his heart out because you left him! He thought you didn't fucking care, and you know what?! I did get off with your friend! He fucking loved it too!"

John picked up his head quick and saw the heartbreak in Sherlock's face, but it was only brief and then taken over with anger. Sherlock shifted in his spot and glanced down at John, who then felt two inches high. John felt guilty, not sure why, but the way Sherlock had just looked at him and the way Greg had just told him that, made him feel like he had cheated on Sherlock.

Greg nodded and stared at Sherlock. It felt good to hold something over the bastard's head. When he saw Sherlock get even more angry, he kept going, "What's wrong, Sherlock? Jealous that I sucked John's cock and got him off?" Greg took a step closer to Sherlock and stared up at him, "I was able to get him to stop crying and stop thinking about you last night. I had been a better friend to him, than you have in some time."

John sat there in his chair stunned unsure what to do. Each bash that came out of the men's mouths in that kitchen would break his heart even more.

All Sherlock could think, _You don't even know. You know nothing of what I had to go through, what I had to do to protect John. I did it for John, all of what I did, was for John. _He felt his back stiffen when Greg brought up that he got John off, and started to feel even more protective of his blogger. Sherlock tightened his fists and what really did it for him was Greg accusing him of being a better friend to John than himself.

Not even thinking, he just reacted and punched Greg in the jaw, and was soon tackled to the floor by the Detective Inspector. Greg got a few punches in as they wrestled on the floor and Sherlock fought back.

John stood up quick and tried to get their attention, "Guys! That's enough!"

The two on the floor ignored him and kept wrestling and fighting each other.

John strode over to Sherlock and Greg and yelled at the two of them, "I said, that's enough for fucking Christ's sake! How old are you two!? You've got to be fucking kidding me?!"

Neither of them stopped and kept grunting, and cursing at each other. John sighed a little watching the two of them and limped a little to his room and pulled his gun from his dresser. He came back and opened up a window in the sitting room and shot off two rounds out the window.

Sherlock and Greg froze and looked over at John standing at the window, "Now that I have your fucking attention, and now the police!" John closed the window and put the safety back on his gun. He set his gun down and stared at the two men on the floor, battered and bruised.

"Both of you, out, now," John pointed at the door to his flat and stared at them seriously, but neither of them left. They stood up and smoothed out their clothing and stared at John with shock.

"John, please. I really think we should talk," Sherlock stated and straightened his back a little. Greg glanced at Sherlock and rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

"Please just. Leave both of you, I need time to think." John ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes sighing.

Greg and Sherlock remained silent and nodded a little. Greg turned and left the flat, Sherlock however, stood in front of John and hugged him gently whispering, "I'm so sorry I hurt you. When you're ready, you have my number."

And with that, Sherlock let go of John, grabbing his coat and scarf, and left.

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**Well then! Wasn't that a buttload of fun and angst! Thanks for reading if you've stuck around this long! I appreciate hearing from you guys soo reviews are very much so welcomed! It's what fuels me!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

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It had been a few days since John had watched Greg and Sherlock wrestle, fight and bicker in the middle of his flat. He hadn't talked to either of them since then. Each word that came out of Sherlock and Greg's mouths broke John's heart a little each time. They are his friends and they were demeaning each other, and defending John. What they didn't realize was that as they did so, it just broke him more.

John sat in his arm-chair and pulled his phone from his pocket and just stared at it for a bit. He fiddled around with it, nervous to text Sherlock or Greg. Both seemed honestly upset with what had occurred the other day, and both seemed genuinely concerned for John's well-being. John bit at his lip contemplating on who to text and what to say to said person.

Still confused and shocked to find out there Sherlock had been alive for the two years that he had been 'dead.' John felt like he needed to talk to him first and get things squared away.

He sighed a little and sent Sherlock a text.

**If you're not busy, stop by. We need to talk. -JW**

Not even seconds later John got a text back.

**I agree thoroughly. I'll be there in ten. -SH**

He smiled at his phone a little as he read the text and put his phone away. He sighed a little and cleaned up his flat a little before Sherlock came over.

* * *

As he cleaned, he wondered to himself about the things Sherlock had said. _I was protecting my one friend, I did what I had to do! He may not know it, but I care for him, like I never have for someone else!_ The emotions in Sherlock's eyes that day, John had never seen in that man before, ever.

Sherlock was right though, the day that he had jumped, broke John's heart into a million pieces. He has yet to find someone to help him put those pieces back together. _Maybe it wasn't supposed to be some one else, maybe I have to fix it myself._ John thought, and ran a hand through his hair, then an epiphany arose. _Maybe it was meant to be-_

John was shaken from his thoughts as he heard a knock on his door, undoubtedly it would be Sherlock.

He opened the door and saw the tall brunette standing there staring down at him. John couldn't tell how Sherlock was feeling right then. He had a way with hiding his emotions, and it drove John crazy.

John invited Sherlock in and watched as he moved through the flat.

It was quiet, too quiet, uncomfortably quiet.

Sherlock slipped his coat off along with his scarf and hung them on the back of a chair, "John, let me start by telling you how very sorry I am. It was not my intention to hurt you like I did." Sherlock watched him sadly and waited for an answer.

John looked at Sherlock with eyes full of hurt, and frustration. "You have no idea, how long I had waited for you, how long I had hoped you would come back." John took a deep shaky breath and exhaled, "After about a year and a half, I gave up on hope. I gave up on thinking you were coming back. I moved out of Baker Street, quit my therapy sessions. I gradually gave up on having lunch dates with Mrs. Hudson, she wouldn't stop talking about you. I gave up on going out with Stamford, and I stopped seeing Greg for the longest time."

Sherlock gave sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He felt his heart sink, and felt like it was his fault, although it kind of was. John continued quietly, "I haven't been working, hell I gave up on dating." He sighed and sat down in a chair in the living room and Sherlock sat across from him.

Sherlock was trying to collect his thoughts, trying to piece words together to explain what happened and why he hadn't come back. "When, before I had called you. When I was on the roof, I was with Moriarty. He," Sherlock took a breath and slowly exhaled glancing down at the floor, avoiding John's prying eyes. "He told me that I had to kill myself, that I had to jump. He told me that he could just give the word and you would have been safe if I just jumped."

His hands shook a little and looked back up at John, who's face was pale and filled with hurt. Sherlock took a slow breath and continued, "Moriarty shot himself and gave me no choice John. He was threatening your life, and Mrs. Hudson's. He was threatening to kill the people I hold dear to me John. If I hadn't jumped John, h-he would have killed you. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself knowing that I had killed you."

Tears stared to well up in Sherlock's eyes as tears started streaming down John's. "I am, so sorry that I hurt you John. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just wanted to protect you, I was just protecting my friend." Slow tears streamed down Sherlock's face as he watched John's eyes filled with pain.

Sherlock sat forward more and stared at John seriously and murmured, "When Greg told me that he got off with you, I was jealous, beyond all belief. I...John."

John stared at Sherlock with slight confusion as Sherlock tried explaining himself. He smiled a little as he listened. Obviously Sherlock was having trouble explaining his feelings, but John just let him stumble over the words.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a slow breath, "John, the more time I had spent with you the more I grew attached to you. And I know that the same goes for you. Am I right?"

John nodded quietly and felt a small blush creep across his face. He most certainly had feeling for Sherlock, but had always thought that Sherlock never felt the same way. There was no sign that had proved other wise.

There was a silence in the room for what seemed forever. Until Sherlock broke the silence murmuring softly, "I'm sorry I hurt you John, but I did it all for you. I just want you to know that." Sherlock looked down sadly at the floor, feeling his heart ache knowing how hurt John was.

John watched Sherlock and wiped the tears from his eyes. And murmured quietly, "I was heart broken, Sherlock. I honestly thought you were dead, and weren't coming back. You have no idea what that did to me."

Taking a deep breath John watched the man in front of him and slowly exhaled.

"It's hard to say that you hadn't grown on me Sherlock. We lived together for months, sure you did things that drove me a little crazy. But, you were there for me, constantly. You were the closest thing to a friend I had. You were and are my friend Sherlock. I couldn't ask for a better friend," John gave a small smile and moved a little closer to Sherlock.

"You're right though, you have grown on me. Honestly, it has felt like part of me has been missing since you've gone," John sighed a little and put a hand on his chest, "I've honestly felt like I've had this emptiness in my chest. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come back."

Sherlock frowned a little seeing the sadness in John's eyes. He slowly reached out and gently caressed John's cheek with his thumb murmuring, "I'm so sorry I hurt you." He sighed quietly and whispered, "But I'm here now, and I'm here for you."

Sherlock bit his lip a little as John closed his eyes leaning into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock had made a decision and took it upon himself to follow through.

Licking his lips a little, John's eyes still closed with a frown on his face, Sherlock leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against John's.

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**Welp! I hoped you liked it! I'm open to constructive criticism. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the long wait... I was having a hard time with this chapter. But anywho. I hope you enjoy.**

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**Chapter Six**

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John's eyes snapped open and pulled back quickly. He sat back in his seat avoiding all contact from Sherlock. There was an awkward silence between the two and avoided each other's eyes. John rubbed the back of his neck and murmured quietly, "You still didn't answer my question. What were you doing those two years you were gone? Why did you wait so long to come back?"

Sherlock laced his fingers together and stared at his feet. He took a minute to collect his thoughts. He shifted in his seat a little started to explain that, he had to stay away from John, to make sure he was safe.

"While I was gone," Sherlock continued, "I was cleaning up the mess that Moriarty had made. I was trying to protect you, and Mrs. Hudson. I was protecting the people I love, John. I want you to try to understand, that I did it for you." Sherlock shifted a little and watched John wearily.

Sherlock felt awful for what he had done, he fault awful that he hurt John so badly.

John ran a hand through his hair and sighed a little, "I'm still just trying to wrap my head the fact that you're back. It was weird going two years without you."

John paused, and watched Sherlock's face. Damn he missed that face, he missed watching those green eyes. Sure, Sherlock never wore his emotions on his face, but John could see them. He could see the emotions bottled up inside Sherlock and burning out through those emerald eyes. John bit his lip and took in the other man's face. The pale skin, contrasting with the dark hair. So many times he wanted run his fingers through that hair.

Frowning, John saw the bruise Sherlock's right cheek bone from where he hit him. "How's uh," John pointed as his own cheek bone, "how's your face?" He felt bad for doing it but he felt it was necessary at the time.

Instinctively, Sherlock reached up and gently brushed two fingers along his cheek bone, "It's fine, tender but fine."

* * *

It got awkwardly quiet again and two shifted in their seats slightly, both averting the other's stare.

John was unsure of what to say, he just had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that Sherlock wasn't dead, and that he just kissed him. _Wait, Sherlock just kissed me_, he thought. He sat up straighter and tensed a little thinking about it now.

The man who never showed emotions towards another human being, besides hatred, frustration, annoyance, etc., had kissed him. Not only that, but moments ago, confessed that John had grown on him.

At first John thought that he just meant in a flat mate, or friend sort of way. No, it wasn't. Sherlock actually shared the same feelings John had for him.

His eyes went wide as he looked up at Sherlock and felt a blush creep along his face.

Sherlock gave a very small smile and murmured, "I was wondering how long it would have taken you to realize that happened." The consulting detective felt his face warm and looked back down at his hands, smirking and fidgeting a little. "That's why I had that reaction the other day. When Greg said he got off with you. At first," Sherlock rubbed the back of his neck a little, "I wasn't sure why I felt that way, why it made me jealous, but I know now. I know why I got jealous John."

John blinked a few times and looked at Sherlock slightly taken back. He took a deep breath and watched Sherlock for a moment. He stayed quiet waiting for Sherlock to say more.

"John I...I think I love you," Sherlock didn't hesitate, and just said it bluntly as possible.

Closing his eyes John let out a slow breath, unsure of how to handle what he just heard. He shared the same feelings for Sherlock but was unsure how to respond.

The man had gone two years not seeing Sherlock. John went two years with a broken heart, feeling hollow, feeling lonely. He couldn't just jump back into a friendship, or possibly more, with what had happened. It still hurt, it still hurt badly.

"John? Please, say something. Anything." Sherlock looked at John worried that he had said something wrong.

He took a breath and looked at Sherlock, shuddering slightly, "Sherlock..I..I'm glad that...you share the same feelings as I do. I honestly, don't know how long I've had these feelings for you," John hesitated a little, "but, you were gone for two years. We...we can't just pick up where we left off, like nothing happened. It doesn't work like that. It, it still hurts. Knowing that you were gone for two years and you were still alive, tore me apart and it still hurts."

Sherlock frowned and looked down at his hands, and fidgeted a little. He couldn't deny that John was right. He nodded a little and looked back up at John, "You're right. You're very right. I don't expect everything to go back to normal, I don't expect you to come back to me. I don't expect you to come back to Baker Street with me, but I really hope that you do come back. I...I miss my blogger, I miss my companion, I miss you, John."

That last statement really hit home for John, he could honestly say that he missed Sherlock. He missed the annoying git. Even though Sherlock did things that drove him absolutely mad, like playing his violin at ungodly hours of the evening.

He missed hearing that damn violin.

John gave a small smile, trying to ease Sherlock's pain, because he knew he hurt. "Just, give me some time. Give me time to think. As much as I want to be around you now. I'm still upset, I still hurt. Plus, I still need to sort things out with Greg. With what happened the other day, because if I don't, things will be very awkward."

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment, and stared at John, "I hope you know, I do want you to come back. To come back to Baker Street I mean, but...in your own time of course."

He stood up and stared down at John. Not really glaring like he normally would. He watched John with a soft expression in his eyes, John had rarely seen that. John stood up and Sherlock moved closer to him. Until his chest was almost touching John's shoulder, he gently rested a hand on the small of John's back.

The ex soldier looked up at the consulting detective, with weary eyes. Without having time to react Sherlock pulled John in to a hug and murmured against his hair, "Don't worry John. I won't go anywhere, I'll be waiting, you know where to find me." Sherlock kissed John's temple.

Sherlock promptly let go of John, grabbed his jacket, and slipped his scarf on, leaving the flat.

Standing there wide-eyed, John watched as Sherlock left. Sherlock just willing hugged him, kissed him a second time, and said he would wait. He would wait for John. He smiled a little at the thought, _Sherlock would wait up for me._

John flinched a little hearing his phone chirp on the coffee table. He had hoped it was Sherlock. As much as he wanted time away from Sherlock, he wanted to desperately be with him.

He opened the message and frowned a little.

**John, we need to talk. -GL**

It was going to be a long day. John could feel it

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**Well that was a fun chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Pleease review. **


	7. Chapter 7

**I am so sorry for taking so long on this chapter. Pleases don't hate me. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Seven**

* * *

John stared at the text on his phone and typed out a reply.

**When and where? -JW**

He ran a hand through his hair, slightly frustrated. What have I gotten myself into? Sherlock had just come back into his life, and just before that, Greg had sucked him off. John collapsed on to his couch and put his head in his hands. It was a nice gesture for Greg to do that, but John didn't have the feelings for Greg as he did Sherlock. It was completely different.

His phone chirped again and he looked at the message.

**My place in an hour or so? -GL**

_Oh great. We're going to be at his place,_ John thought. He let out a huff and shifted on his couch a little, and sent a reply.

**Sounds good. -JW**

John tossed his phone to the other end of the couch and just stared at it. What happened to his life? How did it spiral out of control like this? Not necessarily out of control, but filled with confusion, regrets, awkward feelings. How did it get to this point? John, sitting alone, in his flat.

He needed to sort things out with Greg and whatever he thought was going on. John didn't want anything more than a friendship with Greg.

Ever since John met Sherlock for the first time, and moved into the flat with him, his life was turned upside down. Between the weird cases he had helped Sherlock with, and seeing each other almost every moment in a day, he somehow grew attached to the strange man.

John smiled a little thinking about the ridiculous shenanigans and the experiments Sherlock would do in the flat. The random body parts that he would find in the fridge. Sure it was unhealthy and slightly strange, but awkwardly, he missed it. John missed Sherlock's ridiculous antics.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands and sighed he should probably take a shower before heading to Greg's.

* * *

After his shower, he changed in to some clean clothes and sent Greg a text.

**I'm on my way over -JW**

John slipped on his jacket and went down stairs hailing a cab.

John pulled his phone out as it chirped, and climbed into the cab.

**Alright, see you soon. -GL**

John was nervous, he fidgeted nonstop in the back seat of the cab until he got to Greg's flat. He just hoped that by clearing the air it wouldn't ruin the friendship between the three of them. Them being, himself, Sherlock, and Greg.

He paid the cabbie as they pulled up in front of Greg's flat, and got out.

He stood on the side-walk staring at the flat before ringing the door bell.

Shifting on his feet John waited patiently, well more like impatiently, for Greg to open the door for him. He just wanted this all over, and things go back to some kind of normal.

John chuckled to himself, there was no kind of normal when you were dealing with Sherlock Holmes. Well, when you live with the man for almost a year, yeah, strange was normal.

Greg opened the door with a smile and led John in. "Come in. I'm glad you came," Greg sounded a little more excited than he should. John chewed his lip nervously as he followed Greg to his flat.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for God knows how long. Greg had made each of them a cup of coffee, and they sat at his kitchen table.

John fidgeted with his mug a little and let out a slow breath. He needed to get this off his chest, it was too much. He stared at his fingers as they gently moved over the porcelain cup.

"Greg, I uh, I need to tell you something," John glanced up and saw those brown eyes piercing into him. He really had hoped Greg didn't expect anything of this. He moved his coffee mug around as he tried to find the right words.

"I feel as though if I don't say something now, you'll get the wrong impression," John shifted uncomfortably and murmured as he looked Greg in the eyes. "What you did for me the other day, I really appreciate that, honestly I do, but uh. I don't know if you were doing it just because, or if you had, um, feelings behind it. Because if you did I have to know Greg."

John watched for Greg's expressions, he didn't want to hurt him anyway nor did he want to lead the man on.

Greg stayed quiet for a few moments and sipped at his coffee, collecting his thoughts. He remembered that night like it was yesterday. He could remember, how John's cock felt in his mouth, how he tasted as he came in his mouth. Greg could distinctly remember the noises John made as he climaxed.

"I can already tell by the way this conversation has started John, that um, you don't like me in an...intimate way." Greg suggested carefully and watched John's face, hoping to elicit some kind of emotion that he could read. Something that Greg could figure out about John without him knowing.

John nodded slightly, and murmured, "Greg, you're my friend, and I want to thank you for being there for me when I was having a hard time. Honestly, I couldn't ask for a better friend. Not many people would text each other almost everyday to check if they were still alive."

Greg just nodded and listened. He felt like interjecting and saying, no not many people would do that for a friend. Not many people would get down on their knees and suck off their friend. Greg was better than that, bit his tongue.

"I, um, I do need to tell you though, that...I don't want to screw up this friendship Greg." John watched Greg, waiting for a response.

Greg slowly exhaled and looked up at John, "I um, I couldn't stand seeing you so heartbroken, torn up. Sherlock ripped your heart out and it didn't even seem like he cared. You closed off to everyone John, and I was afraid that you were going to hurt yourself. I was afraid that you were going to close up and not let anyone in. I just wanted to stop you from hurting, I wanted to take your pain away, and I did that. I was able to distract you a brief moment and take the pain away. I was able to make you feel good and forget about what had happened."

Biting at his lip nervously Greg looked down at his hands and fidgeted slightly. He was afraid to tell John how he felt. Afraid that he would rip his heart out and hand it to him on a silver platter and afraid that he would deny him.

John nodded a little because Greg was right. He was right that he made him feel good. He stopped the pain, he comforted him and was there for him. Greg helped him forget about what happened, and forget about the empty hole that was in his chest. Greg was so very right.

Greg took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing to tell John what he needed to hear.

"John, I think I've fallen for you."

John was sipping at his coffee as he heard Greg and almost choked on it a little. He swallowed what was in his mouth and looked at Greg a little wide-eyed.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. John repeated the action again, before clearing his throat, and mumbled softly, "Greg, honestly, it makes me feel good knowing your attracted to me, but, I..."

He bit his lip and glanced at his hands on the coffee cup then back at Greg.

Taking a slow and steady breath, "I kind of, oh God, um. There's someone else."

Closing his eyes nodded slowly and murmured, "So um, you're seeing someone else, and you let me...suck your cock?"

"No! Nonononono! I'm not seeing anyone, it's nothing like that! I just kind of have my sights set on someone else." John quickly informed Greg, and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.

Greg nodded, eyes still closed. Licking his lips a little, he dared to ask, "Um, mind me asking uh, who exactly?" He opened his eyes and watches John's face fall slightly.  
John was nervous to tell him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to reveal the name. Taking a deep breath, John looked at his hands then back up at Greg, "It's uh, Sherlock. I um, my interest is Sherlock."

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**So I hoped you like it. I've been thing about making a schedule for weekly posting, maybe it'll get me motivated. So Hey, follows and reviews are amazing...**


	8. Chapter 8

**So sorry for the long wait! I got sucked into some McKirk fics and some oneshots... I blame my friend...(you know who you are)... anywho! read and review would be nice... here it is! *finally***

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**Chapter 8**

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Things got awkwardly quiet, fast. John fidgeted with his coffee cup and patiently waited for a response from Greg.

Greg furrowed his eyebrows and let out a slow breath, staring at his hand. He felt his chest tighten and felt jealous for some unknown reason. He likes John and he would help him when he could, but for some reason he felt bothered at the fact that John was choosing Sherlock over him. He felt heart-broken or slightly betrayed. Staying quiet, Greg's eyes never left his coffee much, as his fingers fidgeted with it slightly. He wasn't sure how to respond. John was falling in love for the man who broke his heart and tore him to pieces.

"Greg, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I just think that if I didn't te..." John began to explain before Greg quickly interrupted him.

"You're sorry that you hurt me?" Greg let out a small bitter chuckle, "John, you picked a psychopath over... John, you're in love with the guy who broke your heart, who left you for two years. Not only that, he's expecting you to be okay with the fact that he's back and wants everything to go back to normal. Sherlock is ignoring the fact that he sent you into a depression during his absence, and wants you to go back 221 with him."

Greg started to lecture John and his grip unknowingly tightened around his coffee mug.  
"Yes, of course I'm sorry that I hurt you. I never expected something like this to happen between you and me, and I'm sorry if I did something to lead you on. That was not my intention, I wanted to keep the friendship we had, and the other night when..." John started to defend himself, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

"What? The other night when what? When I sucked you off John? Did you just think that I was being a good friend and sucking your cock? Because you know, friends normally do that for each other." Greg rolled his eyes, standing up and starting to pace his small kitchen.

"Of course not Greg! You know you were just caught up in the moment as much as I was. You don't think that Sherlock doesn't feel bad about what he did to me? You don't think that Sherlock and I haven't already sat down and talked about what happened or what is going to happen? Of course I'm not going right back to Baker Street. I told Sherlock that I would need time to think things over and that I wasn't moving right back in with him."

Greg kept pacing and it was beginning to make John antsy.

John stood up and crossed his arms over his chest defensively and watched Greg, glaring slightly, "Sherlock knows what he did to me, I told him what happened while he was gone and he feels bad for what he did. He was doing it to protect me Greg."

John sighed and dropped his arms to his sides, "Sherlock had to do what he did to protect the ones he loved, me being one of them. Moriarty was threatening to kill the ones Sherlock held dearest to him if he didn't jump. He did it for me Greg." John spoke the last sentence a little sternly and emphasized it putting his hands on his chest.

Tears welled up in his eyes and John swallowed hard. He spoke softly and stared at his feet, "I'm sorry Greg. I'm truly sorry that I hurt you like that. I'm sorry that I gave you the idea that I wanted more. I just...I needed someone to lean on, I needed a shoulder to cry on. I just hope, and wish that this doesn't ruin what we have."

Greg buried his face in the palms of his hands and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. John took a few steps closer to Greg and murmured another apology. Daring to reach out and brush his finger tips along Greg's arm, "Greg, please. Say something, please. Anything."

John watched Greg for a moment, and dropped his arm. He knew that he broke his friend's heart, and he was kicking himself in the ass for it. "I guess I'll, um, show myself out," he muttered to himself as he turned slowly, getting ready to leave the flat.

He got to the sitting room before Greg gently grabbed his arm, "John wait."

John stopped and glanced at Greg, biting his lip slightly hoping he didn't ruin anything, hoping that Greg didn't hate him.

Taking a deep breath Greg finally responded, "I'm sorry. I just assumed since it's Sherlock," he gave a small shrug, "he doesn't exactly show emotion or wear his heart on his sleeve. Look, if you're right and he told you he was protecting you, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was wrong about doing that to you the other day. I should have just kept it at friends, and you were right, we were just caught up in the moment."

Greg bit his lip, and reluctantly letting go of John's arm. "I just think, that dealing with the divorce, and you losing Sherlock, I think we both just felt lonely."

John nodded a little and looked back down at the floor murmuring, "I think you're right. I just think we needed someone."

Greg nodded a little and whispered, "So, friends?" John gave a small smile and looked back at Greg sticking a hand out, "Yeah, of course."

Greg gently tightened a hand around John's and pulled the man into a hug. John hugged him back and smiled slightly, "Just, please John, think before you go right back to him. Make sure that's what you really want, because I don't think I could stand to see Sherlock hurt you again."

John let out a slow breath and nodded, "don't worry, I plan on thinking this through first."

And some how, Greg and John's 'just friends' relationship went back to normal.

* * *

It had almost a month since Sherlock and John and met in his flat and talked things out. The loneliness was driving him up the wall. He hated knowing that the consulting detective was back and that he was sitting alone in his flat.

He hadn't received any text messages from Sherlock. Nothing about cases, nothing about Sherlock wanting John back.

John smiled a little holding the mobile phone in his hand and thought, _Wow, Sherlock was being honest when he said he was waiting for me._

Chewing his lip and turning the phone over several times in his hand, John was wondering if he should be the one to text him first or let Sherlock text him. John was hoping for the latter. He chuckled a little thinking, _He being surprisingly patient. _

Pinching the bridge of his nose, John closed is eyes and let out a small sigh. That's when he got the text he had waited for. He chuckled a little, _Spoke too soon._

**I need you. I can't go any longer without you. -SH**

John stared at the message, and gave a genuine smile to his phone. He was very glad that Sherlock had text him. Just reading that message warmed his heart and his smile grew.

**Sherlock. Are you hinting at something? -JW**

Smirking, John could almost sense Sherlock's eye roll and huff as he sent his message.

**Don't be stupid John. Of course I am. I'm coming over. -SH**

* * *

**Aw gawd! I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry I took so long to post it! Reviews would be lovely! C; Oh and pleeease tell me if you see anything sketchy or iffy in my typing. I was dozing whilst writing this...**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm very sorry it took this long to post this chapter. I've been busy this week with seeing people and stuff. *sigh* stupid social life getting in the way... Any who... on with the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

* * *

John waited impatiently pacing his flat. He fidgeted with his phone a little and smiled at the message. It was exciting knowing that Sherlock was coming to see him. The loneliness was starting to get to him, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to see Sherlock again. After the detective had text him, he knew he was ready.

He was more than ready to see that mad man again. After Sherlock jumped, John's life slowly went back to normalcy, he hated it. He hated it so much. The ex-military doctor hated having the boring mundane life again. When Sherlock had stepped into his life, he knew he would never be the same again. It had been the happiest he had been in a long while, but when Moriarty took Sherlock away from John, it went down hill, fast.

It wasn't just that John's life went back to normalcy, he was alone. More alone than he had been before he met Sherlock. He slipped into a dark depression and didn't take care of himself, at all, and had thoughts of suicide.

John shook his head a little shaking himself from those awful thoughts. He had to stay positive, Sherlock was back, and he wanted to see him. Almost desperately it seemed. John didn't mind at all, because he wanted to see Sherlock just as much.

Hearing the buzz of the intercom pulled John from his thoughts and unlocked the door, assuming it was Sherlock. He smiled as he heard the knock on the door and quickly opened it. John couldn't help but grin seeing Sherlock standing there. "Please, come in," he motioned into the flat and smiled a little as Sherlock entered and smiled back.

They both seemed rather excited to see each other with the way they kept smiling brightly at each other.

Sherlock took his coat of and hung it up, "Thank you for allowing me to come over. I um...I had to see you." Sherlock bit his lip a little and fidgeted slightly, feeling a blush creep along his face.

"I'm glad that you decided to come and see me Sherlock," John gave a smile and glanced at his feet. "I um, I missed you," he glanced back up at the detective's hazel eyes and felt his stomach do flips.

He wasn't sure how long they had sat there and chatting, but John was okay with it. He missed Sherlock's company. They talked about what John was doing while Sherlock was gone. They didn't talk much about the depression that he went into. John purposefully avoided that. He saw the look of hurt and pain that Sherlock had when John had first brought it up. He didn't want to break Sherlock's heart any more than he already had, but then again, Sherlock pretty much ripped out his heart and stomped on it.

"I'm sorry, I'm being a really bad host. Do you want anything to drink? I have a bottle of wine in the fridge I have yet to open," John stood and already headed to the kitchen.

Sherlock got ready to say no, but felt it would have been rude, "Sure. I'll have a glass." He smiled and leaned a little watching John in the kitchen, unintentionally checking the man out. Sherlock blinked a few times and looked away.

John came back with two glasses and a bottle, "It's nothing great," he popped the cap off and shrugged a little, "but it's something."

Giving small smile Sherlock took the offered glass and swirled the glass a little. He smelled it a little and listened to John ramble on about working at the hospital again.

John watched Sherlock and chuckled quietly, "God I'm sorry. I'm rambling aren't I?"

Sherlock nodded a little giving a quiet laugh. Sipping at his wine, John watched as Sherlock licked at his lips and sipped at his own. He felt a small blush come across his face as his thoughts strayed, wondering what that genius's tongue would feel like against his lips.

Biting his lip a little, John quickly got rid of those thoughts, _Oh god, he's only been back a few months. I need to calm down_.

* * *

Losing track of time and numbers of glasses of wine, John listened to Sherlock talk about what he did while he was gone. How he was protecting John and his loved ones from being harmed. At some point the amount of wine he had to drink was starting to kick in and instead of listening, John was watching those lips move as Sherlock spoke.

"I uh, I'm really glad you decided to come over Sherlock," John mumbled interrupting Sherlock's rant, and smiled a little, "I missed seeing you."

Giving a knowing smile and murmuring, "I know you did. I missed you too John," Sherlock fidgeted with his glass, and glanced up at John, "you should have text me sooner."

Biting his lip, John glanced down at his hands and mumbled, "I didn't want to come off as needy, I mean, you just got back." He felt his face blush even more.

He glanced up seeing Sherlock lean forward a little. He moved to the edge of the couch and almost leaning across the coffee table.

John's face couldn't get any redder. Sherlock shook his head and murmured, "No, you're not needy."

Sherlock got up, and knelt in front of John and the chair he was sitting in, "John, you wouldn't be needy at all, asking me to come see you."

John licked his lips a little, staring down at Sherlock, he could get lost in those eyes forever.

Sherlock gave a small smile, cupping John's face in his hands. "I'm glad I text you earlier today, I don't know if I could handle not seeing you any longer."

Sherlock moved his thumbs over John's cheeks gently, and gave a small smile. He leaned forward a little and John closed the left over space between them.

John let out a small sigh, and smiled against Sherlock's lips. It wasn't as he imagined, he thought it may have been more demanding. Kissing Sherlock was nothing like that, it was soft, and sweet.

Lifting his hands, John gently laced his fingers in Sherlock's hair, pulling him into a harder kiss. He gently moved his tongue along Sherlock's lip and had been granted permission.

Their tongues moved together, twisting and caressing. Almost fighting for dominance. John tightened his grip a little in Sherlock's hair and was awarded with a moan. John let out a quiet moan at the taste of Sherlock, but the two of them quickly separated.

Sherlock rested his forehead against John's as they stared at each other, flushed from the alcohol and the kiss.

Swallowing hard John murmured, "As much as I want to take this further, I um, I think we should take it slow."

Closing his eyes Sherlock nodded and murmured, "I'm sorry John, I shouldn't..."

John quickly interrupted, "No. It's fine. It's just, we shouldn't move too fast, alright? I want to make sure this," John motioned between the two of them, "works."

"Of course," Sherlock glanced down, and seemed slightly disappointed.

Frowning slightly, John gently pulled Sherlock's face back up and murmured, "That doesn't me I don't want to kiss you."

A small smile spread on Sherlock's face, and leaned in for another passionate kiss. Their lips pressing together, smiling slightly, fingers tangling in hair, and small moans and sighs, escaping their lips.

This is what they wanted, this is what they needed.

They needed each other.

* * *

**Well then! That was fun! I hope you liked it! Reviews are lovely by the way C;  
Oh and one more thing before you go! I am open to do a one shot for anyone who wants something specific! Send me a message or tell me in a review. Doesn't matter, but I shall do my best.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Well I aaaam sooo sorry that I went missing for a while. I feel bad. Inspiration got flushed down the toilet, and well, it came back :D Hope you enjoy the fluffiness that is chapter ten.**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Reluctantly, Sherlock stood to leave, having been with John most of the evening. John had to work the next morning and they both had to think this over.

Sherlock really wanted his blogger back over at 221B, and John wanted his mad man back, they needed each other.

John followed Sherlock to the door and thanked him for stopping by. He was glad they were able to sit and chat. He didn't really want to send him home, he wanted him to stay. He wanted to hold on and to never let go of Sherlock.

"Well, thank you for coming over. It was great seeing you, and talking with you," John smiled a little rocking on the balls of his feet.

Smiling back brightly, Sherlock leaned down slightly and pressed a chaste kiss against John's lips. "It's always a pleasure to see you, John. We must do this again, soon," he murmured before opening the door.

Nodding slightly, John smiles and blushes again, "Yes, of course. I, um, I'll send a text or something."

Sherlock gave a small smile and nods as he leaves.

John let out a small sigh and leaned against the door as it closed. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled a little. He thought he felt his heart skip a beat when Sherlock had kissed him before he left.

John hadn't felt like this in some time. The feeling of butterflies in his belly. He glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. It was half passed twelve and he has to be at the surgery by six.

* * *

Groaning, John completed his nightly rituals and laid in bed wearing a white t-shirt and red pants.

He stared at the ceiling and tossed and turned. Hugging his pillow, John's mind kept wandering to Sherlock. The taste of his lips, how they felt against his. He smiled a little at this thought, squeezing his pillow tighter. Humming quietly, he imagined what it felt like to have Sherlock's fingers in his hair, and his in Sherlock's.

His mind wandered, wondering what the rest of Sherlock felt like. The feel of Sherlock's skin under his touch, what he smelled like, tasted like. When the detective had kissed him, could smell the tobacco in his hair, taste the wine on his lips.

John groaned softly in a sleepless frustration and buried his face in his pillow.

Sherlock paced the sitting room at 22b, and would glance at his phone occasionally. Wearing his pajama bottoms, a t-shirt and his dressing gown, he huffed and sat in John's arm chair.

He had a hard time sleeping, more so than normal. He didn't sleep much anyway, though, this was different. Sherlock's mind was constantly going, constantly working, but now, all he thought about was John.

All Sherlock could think about was the taste of the wine on his lips, the smell of his aftershave. He groaned out of frustration and carded his fingers through his unruly curls.

He just wanted his blogger back. He wanted John back at 221b. Sherlock wanted him back in the flat, and possibly annoy the hell out of him. He was sick of talking to his skull, or just himself in general.

Occasionally, whilst doing an experiment, something would go wrong, cause a bang or catch fire. Mrs. Hudson would come up to the flat and check Sherlock, making sure he was still in one piece.

Sherlock was pretty sure that he was driving Mrs. Hudson crazy with worry. She was constantly coming up to check on him, almost daily if she didn't see him out of his flat.

Sitting in John's arm chair, he stared at his phone, wondering if he should text John. He so desperately wanted to, just seeing him tonight wasn't enough.

He wanted his John back.

Hesitating at that though, his John, why did he think that? He admitted that he loved John, they had kissed multiple times, but the sudden possessiveness surprised him slightly. Then again, he's never felt something like this before. He's never wanted someone so badly, he's never needed someone as much as he needs John.

The day over at Bart's was slow for John. There wasn't many patients coming in, and some canceled their appointments.

Lounging back in his chair, John stared at his mobile phone sitting on his desk. He didn't sleep much last night, tossing and turning every which way.

John couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. He wanted him back in his life, he wanted to move back into the flat with that sociopath. John just so desperately wanted love Sherlock and be loved.

Sighing, John gave in and grabbed his phone sending Sherlock a text.

**Coffee? My lunch break is soon. -JW**

Sherlock sat up from the couch immediately hearing his phone ring.

Almost sprinting to his phone, Sherlock smiled at the message brightly and quickly sent a reply.

**Of course. Meet you at Bart's? -SH**

John chuckled a little at how soon he had received a reply from the detective. Sherlock must want to see him just as bad.

**Sounds fantastic, see you in fifteen. -JW**

Sherlock smiled at his phone brightly before tossing it on the couch and going to take a shower.

* * *

Heading out of Saint Bart's, John couldn't help but smile seeing Sherlock standing out side. He was wearing his coat collar popped up, and that blue scarf John loved.

Sherlock turned and smiled at his friend brightly. "So, how long do I have you for," Sherlock asked as he walked with John down to the café.

Watching his feet, and chuckling quietly, John glanced up at Sherlock and blushed slightly. Looking back down, he tried hiding his growing blush, feeling the detective's gaze still on him. "Uh, well, I have about a twenty-minute break," John murmured glancing back up at Sherlock.

Chuckling quietly, Sherlock tore his eyes from his blogger and smiled, "Hm, twenty minutes that's it?"

John rolled his eyes and chuckled holding the door open for Sherlock. "Yes, twenty minutes. I get off of work at five."

The two of them walked into the coffee shop and made their orders. They found a table in the back near the corner of the café.

They sat in silence sipping at their coffee. It wasn't an awkward silence, it was rather comfortable, and John loved it. He missed having Sherlock around, he missed Mrs. Hudson, he missed 221b.

Sherlock was the first to break the silence, "I miss you, John. I'm going mad being alone. I'm fairly certain that I'm driving Mrs. Hudson mad too."

John couldn't help but snort a little, "Sherlock, you drive almost everyone mad."

Sherlock cocks an eyebrow curiously."Even you John?" He watched John, his hands wrapping around his coffee cup. Sherlock's eyes moved from John's face down to his hands, he was fighting off the urge to reach out and grab John's hand.

Sighing quietly, John glanced down at his cup with a small smile and murmured, "Yes. Of course you drove me mad sometimes. Though," he glanced up at Sherlock, "honestly, I miss it."

Sherlock let out a deep chuckle and smiled, "Well, I miss you too, I miss your nagging. As annoying as it was."

John smirked a little and watched Sherlock, fidgeting with his coffee cup a little. "So, was that an invitation to move back in with you?"

Chuckling and sipping at his coffee, Sherlock looked down at his cup, then back at John, "Essentially, yes. It was. I want you back, John. I miss you." Taking a deep breath and swallowing, "I need you John."

* * *

**Well then, look at all that fluffy joy! I hope you liked chapter ten. I'm going to eventually post my second chapter of my Wholock.**


	11. I'm so sorry :(

Hey guys. I'm sorry I being shit at updating.

Here's a list of reasons why.

- Classes

- work

- second job

- oh wait and my me, and my parents are being kicked out of the house we are renting.

I want to post the next chapter soon.  
I'm sooo sorry for making you guys wait. I've just been...stressed.


	12. Chapter 11

**I am so sorry for my long absence. I've had a lot going on lately and my muse kind of left me. Alot of stress going on. *sigh* Well! Here's the next Chapter! I really hope you like it. It's a bit fluffy. Please! I love reading your reviews!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

John stood in the middle of his empty flat, glancing around, making sure you hadn't missed anything. All that was left in the flat was the cheap furniture that came with it. He was glad to be leaving that flat, to be no longer be alone.

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile and it slowly grew bigger. It had almost, just now, dawned on him that he was going to see Sherlock all the time. John was going to be seeing that mad man he loved so dearly every day from now on.

John had moved his belongings back to Baker Street a few hours ago, and Mrs Hudson was more than happy to have him back in the building. She worried about Sherlock being alone all the time, after having John around.

John sent Sherlock a quick text.

**I'm on my way back. Need anything on my way? -JW**

He chuckled a little as his phone vibrated in his pocket as he was heading down stairs.

**We're out of milk. -SH**

John rolled his eyes and hailed a cab back to Baker Street.

* * *

John came up the stairs, half a gallon of milk in hand. He opened the door to the flat, and slipped off his coat.

He shook his head a little at the flat and it's condition. Sherlock's belongings everywhere. It once was organized, but after the fake suicide incident, and John moving out, it returned to it's prior state, hell it was worse.

Carefully and cautiously, John put his coat on the back of the chair that he usually claimed, as he moved around the piles of, well stuff, in the flat.

"Sherlock? Where did all of this," John motioned to the floor of books, papers and whatever else was laying under the belongings.

The detective waved his hands dismissively, "Oh, just something I was occupying myself with." Sherlock turned back towards to the microscope he was looking into. John just shook his head a little and tried navigating back through the sitting room to go upstairs and finish unpacking.

He smiled a little as he walked up the stairs, happy being back. Sure, Sherlock was probably going to drive him to the point of ripping his hair out, but he was home. He was back with Sherlock, back with his consulting detective.

John opened his duffel bags and started taking the clothes out, and hanging some of his jumpers in the closet. He figured he would do this now, and give Sherlock his time with his experiments. The doctor knew that Sherlock could get so occupied with them, that if John got in the way or distracted him, he tended to get snappy.

* * *

After about an hour or so of unpacking the rest of his stuff, John glanced at the clock. It was around dinner time, and his stomach gurgled a little. Sighing a little, he went down stairs and Sherlock hadn't moved from where John had left him.

Moving through the maze of whatever was all over the floor he went to the fridge and realized it was empty. Sherlock had lived in the flat along for the past few months, why would there be food in the flat.

He closed the fridge and glanced at the man hunched over the microscope and murmured, "Hungry?"

"No, not really," Sherlock replied in that deep voice that John oh so loved.

Crossing his arms over his chest, John shifted on his feet a little, " When was the last time you ate?"

There was silence for a moment as Sherlock thought it over.

"Well, then?" John asked, his doctor instincts kicking in.

The detective let out a quiet sigh and sat up straight, glancing up at John with a neutral expression on his face, "Tuesday."

"Today is Tuesday, Sherlock. Do you mean last Tuesday?" He took a step closer, raising an eyebrow. He was a little upset that Sherlock wasn't sure when the last time he ate was but he couldn't really say much about it. John did exactly take care of himself while he thought his best friend was dead. "I know I shouldn't exactly say anything about you not eating, I mean, hell I did the same thing while you were gone, but," John started but was quickly cut off.

"Oh well then, yes I mean last Tuesday. I've been having a snack or two but haven't really eaten much," Sherlock shrugged a little like it was nothing and went back to the microscope. He didn't think any thing of it. Sherlock kept himself occupied with cold cases that Lestrade offered him from The Yard, since there wasn't anything major going on. Also, he didn't have John around to force feed him when he should have be eating.

Dropping his arms to his sides, John rubbed at the back of his neck and murmured, "You're going to eat something Sherlock. You haven't eaten in a week, and no, coffee or tea does not count as eating something. Since your fridge and your cabinets are obviously empty from any groceries, we're going out."

"But I don't want to go out," Sherlock murmured from behind the microscope. "Lets eat in if I have to eat. I don't want to go anywhere," he made a few adjustments to the microscope and made a few notes on a notebook next to him.

"Honestly," John spoke a little more sternly, "look at your flat, it's a disaster, you have stuff, everywhere. Where in the bloody hell are we going to sit to eat?" The doctor moved his eyes from the detective and to the sitting room that was starting to look more like an office area, papers, books, files, everything everywhere.

"Well, for one, it's not just 'stuff', John," Sherlock stated as he pulled away from the microscope and looked at his flat mate, "they are part of cases that I have been and that I am working on. Two, I am not leaving this flat to go have a dinner I don't want. I am staying in this building," Sherlock stood in front of John, and he could almost smell him, and Sherlock murmured quietly with a smirk, "If you want me to clean up, all you have to do was ask me to."

The detective smirked at John and bit the inside of cheek a little, fighting off the urge to kiss the hell out of those lips in front of him. They both stared for just a second, but it seemed like hour.

Sherlock moved away and started organizing and reading labels of the files in the sitting room.

Watching Sherlock move about the sitting room, John leaned against the wall a little watching. He couldn't help but eye him a little. A smile crept on to his face and pulled his phone from his pocket. John called and ordered from the Chinese restaurant down the street.

* * *

John helped Sherlock organize some things for a while before leaving to go and pick up dinner.

When he came back with a bag of food, the sitting room had been organized and the table in the kitchen was covered in books, files, and whatever else was on the floor. As he walked through the sitting room, he set the bag down on the coffee table and noticed Sherlock was back at his microscope at the table. Slipping off his jacket he hung it off the back of his arm-chair.

John went to the kitchen and got something to drink, and as he passed Sherlock, he rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, come get something to eat," John murmured and went to the sitting room.

Sitting in his arm-chair, John picked up a take out container and started picking at some lo mien. He turned on the tellie and flipped through channels before stopping at Top Gear.

Soon Sherlock sat in his arm-chair across from John and rolled his eyes at the show John was watching. He picked up a take out box and ate a little.

The silence between the two was rather comfortable, not awkward at all. John glanced at Sherlock and smiled a little, seeing him pick at a box of food. "Good. You're eating," John murmured as he watched Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes a little and kept picking at his food, "I'm only doing it because you wanted me to," he murmured and set down the box and shifting in his chair.

John rolled his eyes and set his take out box down, and not touching any more of the food. He saw Sherlock in his peripheral shift around in his chair. He let out a huff and looked at the obviously uncomfortable detective, "You okay over there? Because you're shifting around is driving me a little mad."

"I'm fine. Just can't get comfortable," Sherlock muttered and stood up before laying on the couch. He was only there a minute before he started shifting around uncomfortably again.

John rubbed at his temples and glanced at Sherlock, "what is your issue?"

Sherlock sat up quickly and looked at John seriously, "John. Come here. I need you."

The doctor started to blush and choked out a quiet, "What? Why?" He was kind of curious what Sherlock could want from him, but it could be almost anything with Sherlock.

He was a little hesitant and just sat in his armchair for a moment and didn't move. "John, just, get over here," Sherlock didn't really ask this time, it was more of an order. And who was John to say no to him.  
So he stood up from his arm-chair and moved to the couch with Sherlock. He sat at one end of the couch leaning his arm and propping his head in his hand. Once John sat down Sherlock slid down the couch a little and laid down with his head in John's lap.

Smiling contentedly up at John, Sherlock murmured, "There. That's a lot better." Once he was comfortable the detective hummed and closed his eyes. Staring down at Sherlock, John hesitantly brought his hand up, and gently carded it through Sherlock's hair. He smiled and thought, _it was just a soft as he imagined. _

He kept moving his fingers through Sherlock's hair and chuckled quietly thinking he heard the detective purr. John was the first to give in, he sighed softly and murmured, "oh what the hell." He smiled a little and leaned down, kissing Sherlock's lips gently.

Sherlock smiled and automatically kissed his John back. He could help but think, _Yes, this what we need. What I need. My John. My wonderful, loving, caring John._

* * *

**Well I hope this bit of fluff made up for the time that I was gone. Once again, my apologies and I love you all so much! Pleease leave me a review!**


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